The roads within the slum are very narrow, basically only wide enough for one person to pass through.

On both sides of the road are low shanties, some with doors, some without, some just covered with a piece of tattered cloth functioning as a door.

As Herag walked along the path, quite a few sallow and thin children emerged, staring at him blankly from the side.

Those looks made him feel very uncomfortable.

Herag thought for a moment before he remembered what kind of gaze this was.

It was the look a hunter has when locking onto its prey.

The appearance of such a gaze in children so young had an unusual significance behind it.

Even more concerning for Herag was that he felt he had arrived in the den of the Abyssal Cultists.

On this journey, he had encountered an unknown number of people with the aura of the Abyss Plane on them.

The number was so overwhelming that it made Herag wonder if these people realized they had already become Abyssal Cultists.

If these people all became Abyssal Cultists of their own accord, then the Mozambique Slums would definitely be a great hidden danger.

Of course, even if they weren't willing, it was already a problem here.

"Hey, handsome~" A provocatively dressed woman on the roadside whistled at Herag.

Perhaps men with such delicate skin and fair complexion were rare here, so many women stared at him along the way.

The bolder ones, like the woman by the roadside, directly greeted and teased him.

Some even went as far as to display themselves to Herag.

Whenever Herag encountered such situations, he could only sigh helplessly.

He naturally had no reaction, considering nobody here looked remotely clean.

In the literal sense of cleanliness, everyone looked as if they hadn't washed their faces in a long time.

From this, you could see how worrying the sanitary conditions here were.

Herag definitely didn't want to catch some disease inexplicably.

These past few days had been sunny, but the roads in the Mozambique Slums seemed forever muddy.

Walking on them always produced the sound of stepping into mud on a rainy day.

Herag glanced at his leather boots, which Reese had bought him; they were already caked with dirt.

Asir led Herag deeper and deeper, gradually arriving at the heart of the Mozambique Slums.

Asir hadn't said a word along the way, merely guiding him. He also didn't seem inclined to talk to Herag.

Herag glanced around; at this time, he could see that the surroundings were a sea of contiguous low shanties.

In the distant skyline, he could see some tall buildings belonging to the prosperous area of Silver Moon City.

"So you can see it from here as well."

Herag realized that even from the center of the slums, you could clearly see the magnificent buildings far away.

Living in such poor conditions and yet able to look up and see places where the upper class of Silver Moon City live and entertain, who knows how these people feel.

Herag continued to walk forward a bit more, knowing they were almost there.

Because underfoot, the road had transformed into clean, hard stone slabs instead of muddy paths.

Looking up, it was a rare clean place in the slum, with a tidy road clearly maintained by someone.

Not far away, there was a mansion quietly lying there; its tall gates were completely incongruous with the slum's atmosphere, giving Herag the illusion of not being in the slums.

Asir came to the gate, knocked, and someone opened it.

"Go in." Asir said, turning around before walking in on his own, seemingly too lazy to even look at Herag.

Herag looked at the back of the boy's head, held back the urge to give it a gentle knock, and went inside to see what kind of mischief these people were up to.

Franz's mansion was even larger from the inside than it appeared from the outside. Herag wound around for quite some time before arriving at a small courtyard.

The courtyard held only Franz, who was sitting in a chair.

Next to the chair was a round table with a bottle of red wine and three glasses on it.

"Ah, Mr. Herag is here, have a seat." Franz indicated a chair by the round table reserved for Herag.

Herag didn't hold back, swaggering over to take a seat.

Franz didn't speak immediately but picked up the bottle of red wine and slowly began, "This bottle of red wine was bought for me by that kid Brown. I've heard it cost quite a bit, and I've never drunk it, just kept it there. It wasn't until he died that I remembered it."

"By the way, Mr. Herag, the guy you killed, you probably didn't know his name was Brown."

Franz talked casually, uncorking the wine and pouring it into the three glasses, as if discussing something insignificant.

"Oh, so his name was Brown." Herag smiled.

Franz nodded, "He was a good kid, always worked hard. Did he suffer before he died?"

Herag thought and said, "Probably not."

He recalled that Brown's death had been quite swift, disappearing into thin air with a single punch.

He just wasn't sure if the psychological impact counted as suffering.

Franz placed a filled wine glass in front of Herag, saying, "That's good, that's good."

With three glasses of wine, Franz and Herag each took one, leaving the third untouched on the table.

"Want to try it?" Franz glanced at Herag, then downed his glass of wine in one gulp.

Herag looked at the wine, rich in color, clearly no ordinary vintage.

He smiled, raised his head, and drank it all down without leaving a drop.

"I thought Mr. Herag wouldn't dare to drink," Franz joked.

"I dared to come, why wouldn't I dare to drink? So, what's the reason you called me here, surely not just to help set up a Witch Array, right?" Herag said nonchalantly as he placed the glass back on the table.

Franz leaned back in his chair, seeming very relaxed, "I just wanted to ask how Brown died."

"Simple, I killed him with one punch," Herag replied seriously.

Franz shook his head, "Impossible. He reached the Abyss Plane and was at least Level 2 Wizard. How could he be killed with one punch?"

"That's the fact, believe it or not, not my problem," Herag bluntly responded, too lazy to explain further.

"Are you looking for death?" Asir glared angrily at Herag, ready to rush and punch him.

Herag glanced at Asir, then turned back and asked, "Who's this dimwit? He doesn't seem to have a brain."

Asir was utterly furious, his muscles tense.

"Asir." Franz called out leisurely, causing Asir to instantly restrain his anger, although his chest still heaved violently, evidently very upset.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.